The First Kiss
by neoaltoid
Summary: Triela is asked on a date by an assassin while on the job.
1. Frage

Chapter 1: Frage

_"Gunslinger Girls (we begrudgingly accept this title) are known for being cold killers. This is, to some extent, true. But it also holds that while we have mechanical bodies, we are nonetheless adolescent (teenaged, perhaps, and certainly young adults, almost) girls, who, despite our familiarity with guns, are extraordinarily normal."_

Triela kicked down the door to the apartment. She walked into the room, covering all the possible ambush points with textbook precision. Her eyes scanned the room, as though expecting an attack at any moment. Moving silently, she drew herself up against the wall, waiting for a moment before attempting to enter the kitchen. Spinning in with practiced grace, her automatic shotgun met the face of an unfortunate terrorist, who was gunned down without mercy. Checking once again for a possible ambush, she knelt down, and picked the man's pocket. His wallet verified his identity: a certifiable lunatic. Her job was complete. Raising her hand to her comm, she spoke softly "Mission complete, Hilshire."

Of the cyborg corps, Triela was by far the most effective and efficient. There may have been better shots, or better killers, but none disputed Triela's superiority as a fighter. As they aged into their late teens, each gravitated, simply because of their natural talents, to particular fields of fighting. Angelica, for example, had a tendency to break down at the slightest hint of danger in a close firefight–but she, unlike all the other girls, could hit a moving target from two miles out, and had a Zen like patience in waiting for a target. In contrast, Rico and Henrietta could clear out an entire building in just under ten minutes, but were average snipers, at best. But most of the girls, even though they were growing into young adults now, had a limited level of independence. To be sure, all of the girls were capable of doing missions alone, by now. Their handlers had taught them judgment, each in their own manner, and they operated as a team or independently. But there was an understanding that in this regard, the conditioning made the girls unequal. Rico had to have radio contact with Jean at all times, to help her think through the next step. Henrietta and Angelica were in constant need of reigning in, their exuberance to please their handlers often going overboard. Finally, Claes and Triela could operate almost entirely independently and as effectively as any trained soldier. It was, hypothesized the doctors, a function of age. Claes and Triela were the most mature of the bunch when they were turned into cyborgs, so it made the most sense that they were the most capable of dealing with adversity, having dealt with it in their previous lives. And this independence was what made Triela the best soldier. She thought outside the box, found the clue that no one else bothered to look and and left the most survivors. She prided herself in doing the best possible job, and much to the conditioning doctor's surprise, would ignore direct orders from her handler to do so. Triela simply said that it was a matter of will power, and that she had grown out of the conditioning. So it came to be that Triela, at age eighteen, served her former slavers of her own free will, a soldier in the employ of the government.

So, Triela stood up, and sighed, leaving the room with far less vigilance than when she had entered. This was a troubling mistake. As she was attacked, she didn't think, she reacted. Years of honed practice flung her out of the way of a shower of bullets, as she loosed shells back. Hand once again at her ear, she shouted "Trouble. I'm dealing with it before I leave."

The hidden assailant whirled into the main room just as she finished speaking. As the two fighters dueled, Triela noticed two things: first, that the man she was fighting had an uncanny knack for dodging her shots, and second, that his gun was exceptionally powerful to be wielded with one hand. The two continued their deadly dance, each evading the other by a tiny margin, each inching towards the other, before a final spin brought their barrels to the other's head. Triela smirked. "You're empty. Your clip only has 36 rounds, and you've fired all of them."

For the first time, her opponent spoke, "And beautiful, you've fired 12 rounds, which by my estimate, leaves you empty as well."

Triela's grin didn't vanish. "No, eleven," she commented as she pulled her trigger. Nothing happened. Several expletives ran through her mind. God damnit, she had forgotten the round she had fired to kill her mark. How could she have been so stupid? Refusing to let evidence of such a gaffe slip away, she dropped the shotgun, and lashed out at her assailant with inhuman speed. She gasped in surprise as her hand reaching for the man's throat was caught. "Beautiful, I don't want to fight such a cute girl. Let's just leave, and I'll report back to my bosses that someone else got that guy first," said the man, letting go of Triela's hand while taking a cautious step back, while motioning to the kitchen.

"Fine," said Triela, backing off as well. It was Pinocchio all over again. Defeated by a normal human–only, when Triela thought about it, with the reflexes, speed and strength the man (well, maybe twenty year old) possessed, he probably had some cybernetic enhancements, so that made her feel better. Her mission was complete, and being ambushed and fighting to another cyborg was an acceptable excuse for something going wrong.

"What's your name, in any case? Mine's Jan, for politeness' sake," said the man–Jan, rather–as he fumbled through his pocket for something.

Triela saw no harm in just a first name. Nothing existed to identify her in public record by that name–the only name she had in paperwork was the name from her old life, Scarlett Felder. "I'm Triela."

What came next surprised her completely. Several things happened at once. Her earpiece crackled with Hilshire's voice, enquiring (in a very spazzed manner) whether she was okay or not. At the same time, Jan pulled out a business card, and left it on the ground, before asking politely, "Well then, um, Triela, you're cute, and you won't be scared by my, uh, line of work, so, uh, would you like to go on a date?"

Hand still instinctively to the ear, other hand in her coat resting on her gun, Triela stood stock still, jaw practically gaping at Jan's audacity. Her earpiece continued "Triela? Respond. Triela? Oh god, I'm coming, Triela!"

The female cyborg came back to her senses. "Everything's under control, Hilshire. Another cyborg on the scene, not hostile anymore. I'll have an update in a minute." Turning to Jan, smoothly drawing her pistol and aiming it at Jan's heart, she continued, "And who the hell do you think you are, asking me out on a date. After nearly FUCKING KILLING ME, no less?"

"Hey, I'm an admirer, and, well, cute girls who'll be understanding of what exactly I do are hard to come by, don't you know?"

"Just. Leave."

"Yes, or no. My card's there, if you want it, by the way, just in case you change your mind. Oh, and, um, are you a grown up version of those government cyborg girls?"

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

"That still isn't no on the date, on the plus side. And trust me, I may not be quite as good as you are, but I'm skilled enough of an assassin to hunt you down and keep asking you out until I get a yes. Just one measly date's all I want."

Triela gritted her teeth. Jan did seem talented enough, and deranged enough to actually try something like that. Besides, she mused to herself, he was pretty good looking, anyways. She'd have the girls gushing romantic stories for weeks, and that gave ample opportunities for passing off less desirable work, in return for gossip. Totally worth it. Now, all it came down to pulling something off. "Hilshire, funny question."

"Triela, it's been a long time since you've had to ask me anything. It's nice to know I'm still needed."

"When's my next mission?"

"You have three days of down time, I think."

"And can I have one of those days in Rome, by myself?"

"I don't see why not. Jean will have disagreements, of course, but he can't complain too much for such an innocent request."

"Good." She cut her mic temporarily. "Trevy Fountain, day after, for dinner. You have yourself one date."

Jan smiled. "I knew you'd come around. Until the next time, my love." Jan reloaded his weapon, and walked out the door.

"Mission complete for real, this time, Hilshire," sighed Triela. "I'll be out in a minute."


	2. Geheim

Chapter 2: Geheim

Hilshire had learned better than to interrogate his surrogate little sister about things which she didn't want to talk about. There was still enough conditioning in her mind to force her to answer all of the questions he asked truthfully eventually, but the hissy fit that inevitably followed one of those sessions was an extreme pain in the ass. Therefore, the topic of "what happened" was left to the mission report, which was basically "encountered hostile cyborg, situation handled appropriately, with the cyborg escaping after deciding to cease hostilities." Such a cryptic note. He would have to investigate further. All he had gotten was that the male cyborg's name was Jan, and, by Triela's own reckoning, which was right more often than not, the cyborg had skills rivaling his own sister's. This was an unpleasant and unexpected development, and further investigation was required.

The first place he went was Section I. He was going to find out who the hell "Jan" was. Moseying up to a colleague's office, he asked "Giuseppi, could I have a moment of your time?"

"I suppose, for an old friend."

"I was doing a little bit of research, and I wanted to know if you knew of any assassin by the name 'Jan.' Triela found him attempting to kill her mark yesterday. Just inquiring." Hilshire tread lightly. There was no reason to push too hard yet. The situation was still very much under control.

"Jan? No, I'm afraid not. Most of the German assassins stay in Germany. I'm don't think there's a Jan in the important ones. Still, no reason they'd be hired by our government to do their dirty work. They've already got pretty girls to handle that mess for them." Giuseppi winked broadly, before continuing on to what he really wanted to say, "I'll tell you a secret. I've heard rumors of an organization hunting down the same types of people as us. Terrorist hunters, or something."

"Anything more?"

"Nothing. Very professional guys, they are. Maybe you can find your mystery man there."

"I'll take a look. Thank you so much for your help."

Hilshire did take a look. The data suggested that there was another government organization doing many of the same things Section II did, on a more international scale. This group hunted down those terrorists who fled the country to fight another day. The more Hilshire looked at it, the more he was surprised the girls hadn't run into one of this organization's assassin's earlier. Then, a though ran through his head that disturbed him. Was Italy a police state in disguise? Not even a semblance of democracy, and quite possibly that the people he killed were right? He shook his head. He'd had that line of reasoning before, and every time, he'd had that idea shattered. The people he fought were no better than the people he served. He wouldn't be in his line of work if he didn't believe that. Nevertheless, the existence of another organization was enough to inform Jean—and important enough to jump the chain of command, and tell Triela, so the other girls would be aware of another organization. It was sleight of hand, really, dispersal of information that would inevitably get classified to the right people, without putting himself in real danger. All he was doing was informing his cyborg of events which had happened already, not even the slightest bit subversive. Besides, the girls knew what they should keep mum about. Hilshire hopped into his car, and drove back to his own office.

What he found was Triela holding court. That was unusual, really. Claes was the queen bee of the original five girls. She had the most time to spare, and had grown to be better at dealing with people than she was handling a gun. Claes was basically the counselor for all the newer, younger cyborgs—the conditioning doctors were amazed that five minutes with Claes could deal with most any issues of "my handler doesn't love me" more effectively than anything they could do. They hypothesized that hearing what they needed to hear from an older, wiser version of themselves made learning easier to stomach. In any case, Triela was the bad cop, in the hierarchy, from Hilshire's observations, but also the model for what all the other girls wanted to grow up to be. Sure, Henrietta and Rico pretty fun to work with, but they aren't praised as the best ever. That mystique belonged to Triela alone. Thus, when he found Triela gossiping, and generally being the center of attention, he had to find out the reason. "Triela, what's so interesting?"

Quicker on the draw than Triela, Claes cut off her friend before she could respond. "Nothing too much. Just talking about extremely good looking men."

"Ah. Jean will never understand that at heart, you're still teen aged girls. No amount of conditioning would stop you from swooning over movie stars." Hilshire had his question answered, but he was still nagged by a strange sensation that something was not quite right. He ignored it, and, went back to continue with his research.

He asked around, called in favors, and, after a long day's work, he had found the mysterious Section III, the new government force on the political intrigue scene, as well as a way to contact them. Mailing from his Section II address, he, as discreetly as he could, asked if he could drop by, to see what was going on, and perhaps give some advice from his time in Section II. The e-mail response he received was terse, but generally positive. He would be allowed to see the facilities the next day, and would generally be shown what they wanted to show him, but only because he was already a trusted agent.

Hilshire thought that Section III's facilities matched up well with his own unit's. He was paraded through things that he just assumed that any unit would have, before being shown the main attraction. The young man who had been leading Hilshire around introduced himself as "Jan, exterminator extraordinaire."

Hilshire hadn't thought it would be this easy to find his mark. Dumb luck, he supposed was very helpful from time to time. He had to confirm, though. "Jan, was it? Were you ordered to kill Benito Medici, at any time?"

"I don' t think I'm allowed to tell you. I trust you, but not that much."

"A different question, then. Have you met a cyborg, within the last couple of days, with blond pigtails and an automatic shotgun?"

"You're from section II?"

"Indeed."

"Then, yeah, I think I met one of your girls. Triela, or something. Quite the looker, too."

"I've always told her she looked good in a suit."

"Ah, but I think I've told you too much already. Let's move on with the tour, Hilshire. I do hope you've been impressed by what I've shown you, so far."

"Only a few short questions. I've always been told over at Section II that young girls received the conditioning and cyborg treatments best. Yet, here I am, walking with a male cyborg."

"Ah. The doctors practically drilled this answer into me. Male cyborgs receive fewer implants, but we make up for it in that our bodies are stronger naturally. Like, all of us are the people who scored really, really high on the aptitude and physical tests administered to orphans, so we can handle the strain better than most, unlike your girls who were terminal cases to start with, for one reason or another."

"And conditioning? You're like Triela—you hardly seem to show it."

"Don't have real conditioning. I never had a handler, though from what I've heard, we are a little bit conditioned in the way you're talking about. In fact, I'm just conditioned the old fashioned way–a thousand push-ups for disobeying orders."

"Do you remember your old life?"

"It's...sort of a blur. I know I didn't have parents. I remember some faces, almost. But I don't know enough to say for sure where I grew up, or who I used to be. I'm a soldier, through and through."

"So at that level, you're just like our girls."

And so, the tour continued. It was more of the same, and while Hilshire was impressed, he had learned what he had come to learn. Now that he had found Jan, and confirmed his identity as a government agent, he could pass it back to the girls, and they would be aware of the new players. As Hilshire prepared to leave, Jan sheepishly asked, "Hilshire, do you know anywhere nice to eat around Trevy Fountain? We don't get out much, and I've got some free time tomorrow, and I wanted to go out into Rome."

Hilshire paused, and rattled off a short list. Jan thanked him profusely, and sent Hilshire on his way.


	3. Abendessen

Chapter 3: Abendessen

"Triela, for the love of all things holy, you are going to wear a dress to your date."

"Claes...but I look good in a suit and..."

"No ifs, ands, or buts. I'll make sure that 'Etta and Rico won't cover you either. The dress and us come as a package. I will not have our princess shame our name. Heaven forbid."

"Claes..."

"Don't even try the whine you use with Hilshire. You may have gotten him to be docile and tamed, but I, for one, am not willing to bend on this issue."

Triela sulked horribly as she donned the dress that her friends had picked out, after _hours_ of discussion on a fashion magazine. Apparently, they had even used some of their disposable budget to requisition said dress, and now, they were forcing it on the girl who had won the date in the first place. Triela was annoyed that her instincts had gotten the better of her, and she regretted asking her friends to provide armed cover for her, just in case the date was a set up. That, and they got to giggle and laugh at her the entire night. This could end only badly for her, now that she thought about it, short of Jan being completely amazing. Considering he was an assassin, that seemed oddly unlikely. Her thoughts were brought abruptly to a close as she stood before a mirror in her new dress. It was long, reaching to her ankles, but the slits down the side allowed for free mobility. Form fitting, it left little to the imagination, and as she walked out to the car that was taking her group into Rome, she heard Jose let out a low whistle. She shot him a nasty look.

As the car took the short drive to downtown Rome, Triela ran over all the protocols that had been established for the mission, and, unfortunately, was given some "required" reading. An issue of some silly teen magazine on "how to make a great first impression to that hottie." Triela wondered whether her friends were really friends. Finally, mercifully, she broke off towards Trevy Fountain, as her friends took their positions to give supporting fire if need be. Lost in her thoughts, she wandered into the plaza, looking for Jan's face. Not finding him immediately, she sat down on the edge of the fountain, waiting for her date to arrive.

After a scant few minutes, her wire crackled with a call of "Nice catch." from Claes. "He'll find you right where you are. Triela, all that's left is to stand there and be pretty, and the game will be afoot."

Triela grumbled. Claes was having altogether too much fun with this. Triela resolved to have her vengeance whenever (if the day came) Claes ever was smitten with love. Nasty thoughts running through her head, she looked up, and before her, stood Jan, sharply dressed in slacks and a loose dress shirt, holding before him a bouquet of flowers. Triela stood up, as though to ask "well?" Jan, taking no note, responded "Milady, some flowers to add to your already prodigious beauty?"

Triela snorted. "Flowery speech never got anyone anywhere with me. The flowers, on the other hand, are appreciated. Thank you."

"So, um, not too good with this, but, nice dress? I...like it a lot."

Triela's radio came alive with a chorus of girlish squeals. Claes' "I told you so," practically oozed the satisfaction that must have dominated her face. Jan's jaw opened up, as though to ask about the radio outburst. Before Jan could ask questions, she answered quickly. "I came with protection. Just in case this was a setup. They're...a little bit easily stimulated. And, um, you look good too."

Triela heard the same crackle that had exploded in her ear. "And I'm going to guess that's your buddies telling you to 'get it on,' right?"

Jan shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Guilty as charged. By the way, you do know that we actually work for the same people, y'know. Like, me and my pals, we're the international versions of you guys. Some guy from Section II was over yesterday."

"That's nice to know. I can not shoot you. So, where's dinner."

"Well, there was this visitor at HQ, Hilshire, and he recommended this small cafe a short ways from here. It's a short ways from this really scenic walk, too," offered Jan, while at the same time offering his hand.

Hilshire. The cafe she had wanted to go to for freaking ever. Had he found out and skived off that duty onto this poor kid? Not. Likely. But then again, it was okay. She got what she wanted, and that was what mattered, here. Taking Jan's hand, she replied "I'd love to eat there."

Claes watched as the date unfolded. Much to her surprise, after the initial shock, the two assassins were locked in deep conversation over a dinner of light pasta. Even more surprising was that each had turned off their wire, as though to show an implicit level of trust in one another, and faith in their friends to react appropriately. Relaxing for a moment, now that she knew that there were other people in the area watching the couple (Claes paused for a moment–was it safe to call those two a couple yet? A quick glance saw Jan sliding his hand over Triela's shoulder, and Triela not breaking said hand off, but instead nestling herself into the man. Couple it was.), she began searching for them. A few minutes later, as she moved her position to continue covering Triela as she went on her romantic little walk (This was something that Claes had never thought would come to pass, but she'd be damned if it wasn't the cutest thing she'd seen in quite some time), she found their radio channel, and hacked in. "Excused me," were her first words on the network, "but don't those two lovebirds look adorable together?"

After a few moments of swearing and chewing out the "Marcus," who had set up the network, apparently, Claes received the replied. "Are one of the princesses? Just asking..."

"Princess? Yeah, but back home, I'm bit more of a queen bee."

"Fine, fine, you've probably got a gun trained on Jan. Whatever. So, since I get the oddest feeling that we're going to be doing this again when I look at your blonde _seducing_ our poor Jan, what's a name we can give you?"

"Marcus is one of you, right? I guess I'll trade a name for a name. Claes."

"Claes, might I suggest then, that you look overly excited tonight. The glasses are a nice touch, too."

Without flinching, Claes whispered into the girls' channel "Ange, did you find the boys?"

Angelica replied with her usual professionalism "Yes. I've got three bogies. One's got a scope on you right now, but I think that's more for the scope. His aim is all wrong, and he had it right before."

"What's he wearing? Or something distinctive about him?"

"Well, his hat is for the American baseball team the Yankees."

"Thanks." Cutting back into the boy's channel, Claes shot back, "And I like the Red Sox, you god damn Yankees fan."

"Name's Cristian, and for the love of god, we aren't the evil empire, just better than everyone else. Who's your source, I know you weren't looking at me."

"I've got people."

"Claes, I like your style. We need to work together some time."

Triela felt drowzy. She absentmindedly checked her watch. It was shortly past eleven. Turning to her date (who she had found she rather liked–by which she meant was now completely "in love" with), she smiled, and Jan, noticing her tiredness, sate them down at a bench. As Triela yawned, she marked "I'm really glad that you pestered me. This was a lot of fun."

"That's no one's fault but your own for being so good looking. Though, I'll be the first to admit there's so much more about you to like..."

Jan noticed Triela had dozed off on his shoulder. Turning his wire back on, he gently nudged Triela to wake her up. "You need to head back. Sleep helps with beauty, you know."

"Thanks." Standing up, and then stretching out, Triela turned on her radio, and asked for everyone to get ready to leave. A chaste peck on the cheek goodnight, and then Jan and Triela went their seperate ways.

At midnight, the girls returned. Hilshire was waiting for them.


	4. Freundin

.

Chapter 4: Freundin

"What the HELL were you doing, Triela? You had me worried sick. If I didn't know you better, I'd have called an alert. I've..."

Claes, once again, jumped in to save Triela from too much trouble. "All of us were with her, Hilshire. She was safe. There isn't a force on earth which can take the four of us on at the same time."

"And what," continued Hilshire, deciding to investigate Claes, who seemed very willing to answer questions, "were you girls doing out in Rome to this unholy hour, armed to the teeth, yet having Triela in a dress?"

"Taking her out to a first date," supplied Henrietta, deciding to bite the bullet for her comrade. For all her faults, Henrietta was extraordinarily loyal.

Hilshire sighed in relief. It was something as innocent as hormones that he was dealing with. That, he supposed, he would have to expect, as an almost parent. "And why, pray tell, would a girl as accomplished as Triela need not one, but three of you covering her?"

"Her date was an assassin, she thought. Turns out he was, too."

"Triela, who's the lucky man?"

Triela who was now wide awake, mumbled "That cyborg Jan."

Hilshire began to put the pieces into place. Triela had refused to talk about the conclusion of her mission. Triela was _never_ like that. Triela was complete in her report, almost always. And, oddly enough, Triela had asked about going to Rome, the location of her excursion. That was his mistake, not putting enough merit in that request to investigate further. The next piece was Jan himself, asking about Rome as well. Obviously, the boy was looking for a place to take Triela. Hilshire breathed another sigh of relief when he realized he had recommended the perfect place. That alone must have done wonders for the date. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the task at hand–gently scolding Triela for doing something dangerous and stupid. "And did you enjoy yourself?"

Rico, whose tact was missing in action, pointed out "She would've made out with him if he'd made a move. But Jan was too much of a gentleman."

Triela indignantly retorted "Rico, do you _really_ think I'm that easy?"

"Yes." Sarcastic humor, however, inherited from Jean, came to Rico naturally, and leaving one's self open to a barb around Rico was simply asking for trouble, in general.

Hilshire frowned, now actually getting to the punishment. "Triela, what you did was foolish in a way that I thought you'd never be. Don't do something like this without thinking about it. I'll let it slide this time. But the next time, it's not alright. Now get to bed. You've got a busy day tomorrow. We'll discuss how you're going to be punished for this later."

A week later, Jan showed up at the door of Section II. Flipping open his cell, he dialed the number that he had been given to contact Triela when she arrived. It rang, Triela answered, and moments later, the door opened, granting him entrance. Triela was not waiting for him. Instead, it was Hilshire, smiling disarmingly. Surprised, but maintaining his cool, Jan asked "Um, is Triela home?"

"Why yes, she is. And before you meet her, we have some things to discuss. Outside, if you could."

Not one to disagree with people who most likely had guns when he wasn't armed, Jan stepped out into the yard. "So, why am I being interrogated?"

"Because, Jan, my Triela is not going to end up dating some two bit idiot. She deserves better than that, and, if nothing else, you show potential."

"You're her...what's the word...handler?"

"Yes. Now, I'll be asking the questions."

"Ok."

For the next half an hour, Jan was questioned about very many things–but none of them involving work, and all of them involving his character. A lot of it seemed like a psychological evaluation rather than an interrogation, really. Lots of these questions seemed unreasonable to him, but, to his credit, he answered honestly. It was also among the more harrowing experiences in his life–which, considering his profession, was rather impressive. Jan's will to continue was under severe strain when finally, after what had seemed like an eternity to him, Hilshire stood up, and offered Jan a handshake. Stunned, momentarily, Jan stood up, and shook Hilshire's hand. "I'll enjoy seeing you around, Jan," stated Hilshire, "Now, don't keep your lady waiting too much."

Hilshire directed Jan to Triela's room, so he could pick her up. As he was walking, the three other girls intercepted him, and walked beside him. Claes cleared her throat, before beginning. "Jan, we've got a few things to tell you that Hilshire may or may not have covered."

"This was a setup, wasn't it..."

Rico piped up. "We did steal Triela's cell, and definitely used a recorded voice to fake you out. Don't worry, the real Triela should be answering her phone any time now."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side...what's your name?"

"Rico. That's Henrietta to your left, Ange's in front of you, and Claes is to your right."

"Nice to meet you all."

"Now, as we were saying," continued Claes, "if you so much as elicit a whimper from her, or send her home crying some night, or generally do anything she's not terribly comfortable with..."

"You'll kill me. Right."

Henrietta, whose protective streak had been expanded to include more than Jose, rather than removed, as she grew, cheerfully said, "Nope. We personally enjoy slow torture much more. Besides, we'd get in so much trouble if we killed you."

"I somehow don't feel encouraged."

Angelica grumbled under her breath, "And if we kill you, I somehow doubt Claes will ever find the opportunity to seduce one of your friends. She was eyeing that boy in the hat."

Claes shot Angelica a nasty look, but the soon to be battle that Jan sensed was cut short by the group reaching Triela's door. Claes had the last word before the girls went their separate ways. "Good luck, then." She winked broadly, and walked away whistling "Ode to Joy."

Jan knocked softly. So many things were running through his head at that moment. How did he look? Was this _really_ happening? How could he escape if he needed to? Would Hilshire and the girls ever warm up to him (though, really, he never sensed real malice, but rather guessed that they wished him luck in being a good boyfriend)? However, like any good killer, the instant the moment of truth came, all the jumbled questions, and possible answers were evicted from his mind. Triela opened the door, and looked Jan in the eye. The reason, unfortunately, that Jan's mind was clear in this moment was not that he had cleared them himself–rather, it was that an overwhelming thought, fueled by hormones, was crowding all of them out. Jan, for the first time in his life outside of training, froze up. "Hi."

"Hi, Jan."

Triela's voice seemed to break Jan out of his stupor. "Triela, can you close the door?"

"Why? You've just arrived."

"I want to try that again."

Triela closed the door. Gathering his thoughts once again, this time organizing them correctly, Jan knocked on Triela's door, this time with lots of confidence and loudly. Triela answered, and politely greeted "Hello Jan. How nice it is to see you," with sugary sweetness dripping off of each word.

"Triela, you're fantastic."

And with that, Jan, without any warning at all, passionately kissed Triela. Claes, who had never really walked away, captured the entire event on tape.

"... _and as kisses go, this was pretty high on the list of best of all time. Perhaps not quite as amazing as Wesley and Buttercup, but right up there with Spider-man and Mary Jane in the rain."_

_Claes finished penning her report, wondering exactly what Jean would think of the entire escapade._


End file.
